


Reactive vs. Proactive

by Silverlily80090



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, BAMF Reader, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Everything Will be Explained in the First Chapter, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Multiple Sclerosis, Mutant Reader, Reader's mom is a badass, Reader-Interactive, Reckless Behavior, Scientist Reader, i think, illegal things, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 21:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10290986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverlily80090/pseuds/Silverlily80090
Summary: A Reader-Interactive ficA girl stumbles across the formula for a serum that creates living weapons out of ordinary people in her late grandfather's attic, and decides to put it to use. The results of injecting herself with it were definitely not planned, but at least she finally accomplished something that mattered, right?When visited by a special guest, she realizes just how important her work is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy! I haven't written in like 4 years so I'm sorry if it's bad...

The air in my lab is damp and musty, as would be expected of a makeshift laboratory in one's grandparents' cellar. It's the dead of summer, and it's hotter than hell in here. I can barely wipe the sweat from my brow enough times to keep it from running into my eyes.

  
I guess it's a good thing that I didn't wear any makeup today, or I'd really have to reconsider my life choices.

  
It's probably around, say, three in the afternoon. I wouldn't know. I lose track of time when I'm having fun. And by "having fun", I mean working meticulously on my latest experiment. Even if it still doesn't work this time, at least it's something to do.

  
_God, then again... I've run out of test subjects. I can't keep buying rats to test on, people might get suspicious._

  
Well, if I die, I specified that I wanted to be cremated and for my ashes to be turned into diamonds. Pricey, but practical. I'd still be semi-useful, right?

  
A loud, repetitive crashing comes from the well-worn cellar door and I tense. I already know it's someone attempting to "knock" with their foot so they don't have to bend down and put their hands on the crusty, flaking white paint of the metal door.

  
"It's time for dinner, sweetheart. You really need to take a break, anyway," comes a feminine, comforting voice from the other side of the thin sheet of rusted metal that masquerades as a door. It's my mom.

  
What is she even doing here? I ask myself, my heart throbbing like it's going to explode out of my chest. She rarely visits my grandparents due to the way they get on her nerves, but she does love them.

  
I don't answer, not hungry. She apparently doesn't like that, and before I can protest I'm grimacing and shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun in all its rude yellow glory.  
"Mom!" I stand up from the metal desk where the cheap glass test tubes sit arranged and the ingredients for my experiment are scattered freely. I might not be tidy, but I'm still proud of myself. After all, not many high school dropouts can afford a such a nice spread like what I have.

  
Even if I do acquire most of it illegally.

  
Okay, so I acquire  _all_ of it illegally.

  
Not the point, moving on.

  
I watch her come down the staircase, an expression of shock written on her face as blatantly as the sun shines through the hole left at the entrance to this cellar.  
"Baby, what is this?" She asks, two hands rising up to fold over her mouth.

  
The laboratory has a layout much like a hospital room. It has a bed, multiple currently inactive machines, and makeshift cabinets lining the wall. Sure, it's a very jank hospital room, but it's still a hospital room.

  
Not to mention the little patchwork stove in the corner... though that's for something entirely different.

  
"It's... my lab?" I cringe at how my voice sounds so unsure, wincing at her highly uncomfortable look. Let's hope she doesn't decide to take a look in my cabinets.

  
"And here I was, excited that you'd really found those friends like you said. I give you privacy and the benefit of the doubt, and... _this_. How did you even _afford_ this?"  
"Can we just say I'm a really good cook?" I talk too fast for my brain to process it and she reaches down to open one of the crappy cabinet doors. I never was that great of a handyman...

  
She sees the contents of the cabinet and gives me a very grim look that makes my skin crawl.

  
"You didn't."

  
"Oh, mom... yeah I did."

  
Slapping a hand over her eyes, she places the other on her hip as she takes a deep inhale before letting it out in a very irritated sigh.

  
"That explains why you're wearing some kind of godforsaken lab coat when it's a hundred and twenty degrees outside," she groans. I'm surprised she isn't taking this a lot worse.

 

Should I tell her the truth?

  
I chew on my lip, a nervous habit of mine for several years now. It's my own form of biting my fingernails off or picking scabs. Just slightly less destructive.

  
"Ma, that's not the only reason. I'm sorry. It's just... I'm so tired of accomplishing nothing. Forgive me," I plead and she narrows her eyes at me. She doesn't want to hear this right now, I know, but I'm not keeping this from her. It's the only secret I've ever truly had between us.

  
"Well? Spit it out," she commands, her voice having a venomous edge to it that makes me look away in shame. This isn't the first time someone she loves has done something like this.

  
And it's not the first time I've failed her either, being a high school dropout. I know it stung, hearing that her only child is a total fuck-up. Someone who didn't even try. Or at least, that's what's been said about me.

  
"I've been working on a new super soldier serum," I admit. My growing shame is reflected in my heated cheeks.

 

Out of the corner of my eye I see her shaking her head. She doesn't believe me.

  
"Do you think this is funny? Do you think that there is any humor whatsoever in this situation? Because if you're being serious, I'm taking you to Meadowside."

  
Ah, Meadowside. A place they threatened me with as a younger person when I wasn't behaving, and when I didn't learn my place as an object rather than a human being to be respected. It makes my fists clench to think about it, the memories it brings about. It was a time long passed, before everyone in my life left me in the dust. Before I became so bitter, jaded, and angry at the world that I gave up.

  
I gave up.

  
The sound of those words in my head makes my chest ache. I give my mother a pleading look, but she doesn't seem to care. She comes towards me, reaching out to take my arm and everything goes in slow motion. I don't think, I just do.

  
I grab the jar of the serum I created and the syringe beside it, holding it against me protectively. She tries to take it from me, devastatingly worried and I disregard it completely. I act too fast for my own brain to process and before I understand the possible repercussions of what I've just done, I fill the syringe.

  
"What is that?! Don't you _dare_!" My mother shrieks, but it falls on deaf ears. The moment is still something akin to molasses, flowing thick and slow.

  
I pull back my sleeve, and inject myself.

  
I see the expression of horror on my mother's face, and at first I feel nothing but the bitter jab of anxiety and fear and the tiny pinch of the needle piercing my skin, I hear nothing but the roar of blood in my ears.

  
My blood starts to run cold, and I don't know if it's from the dawning terror of what I've just done or if it's the serum seeping into my veins.

  
What if it poisons me? What if I need more? What if the results I was seeing in the rats was just part of my imagination?

  
Before long, my questions are answered as my muscles go slack, and I fall to my knees. Something is starting, rising up within me but I don't know what it is. It starts to burn and ache and sting like nothing I've ever felt before, and I withdraw the needle only to throw it aside.

  
Every part of my body begins to seize up, curl up into itself, spasm and seemingly scream in protest. I can''t take it. My cries of agony ring within my head, bouncing off the concrete walls of the cellar and making my body vibrate. It feels like my eardrums are going to explode, but I can't stop it. Rushing to scoop me up, my mother tries her damndest. If I could speak I would have yelled for her to stop, anything to keep her from hurting herself. She isn't supposed to be lifting, but she tries so hard, tears streaming down her face and I truly realize for the first time what I've done.

  
The pain becomes too great, and I fall into darkness, my limbs going slack, and I feel like I'm falling asleep.


End file.
